


Opportunity and Motive

by c2t2



Category: Samurai Champloo
Genre: Explicit Fuugen, Extremely foul language, F/M, Not a fluffy Mugen, Subtle FuuJin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3987400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c2t2/pseuds/c2t2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mugen doesn't mean half of what he says. <br/>Fuu takes him at his word in a vulnerable moment. <br/>Everything falls apart. </p><p>Overt MuFu, light FuJin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes and explanations can be found at squizbee.livejournal.com

Part One  


They had spent all Fuu’s traveling money on prostitutes.

“Mou…” she was furious, “I don’t know why you guys keep wasting all our money buying women when I’m _right here_.”

They’d had this conversation so many times, they were conducting it from memory.

“Who’d want your company, you pushy bitch.” Mugen didn’t even bother looking at her or breaking his bored monotone. He lay sprawled gracelessly under the nearest tree, gazing blankly at the leaves above him. Jin knelt in perfect stillness nearby, his eyes closed and face impassive, betrayed only by the growling of his empty stomach.

Fuu and Mugen’s stomachs growled in reply.

“How dare you! I’ll have you know with my youth and beauty I am miles ahead of any of the women you chase after.”

“You? A nagging, flat-chested glutton with zero sex appeal?”

“I have _tons_ of sex appeal! It’s not my fault you’re too tasteless to appreciate it!”

“Is that so?” Mugen rolled to his feet in a single motion.

There was a pause, and Fuu was suddenly paying attention. What was going on? This wasn’t part of their ritual. Mugen had broken the script!

He stalked over to her, shoulders slouched and face some combination of anger and… what?

“Kyaa!” Fuu shrieked as her back slammed against rough tree bark. Mugen held her wrists pinned high above her head - his single hand’s grip an unbreakable vice. His body was angled away from her, presenting no target to kick.

“Sex appeal? I should trade the whores for _you_? I’m sick of that mouth of yours,” he growled, his dark eyes burning hot, “Do you know what you’re saying? You’ll give me what they give, you’ll do for me everything that they do?” Fuu gulped; Mugen’s eyes fixed on the movement of her throat. “Let’s see if you’re right,” his free hand wrapped the end of her obi and yanked it, no gentleness in his touch.

Time seemed to slow down for Fuu. Panic, disbelief, adrenaline. Her senses sharpened; colors grew brighter, and every scent became more pronounced – Pine sap, upturned earth, sword polish, Mugen’s skin, the soap she’d used to wash their clothes. Her heart was pounding so hard she was certain it would burst and she would die right here. She couldn’t seem to get enough breath. She could feel each millimeter of slack in her obi, the incremental loosening of her kimono.

Her mind flashed back to her last day at the teahouse. Her hands were being held immobile, the Daikan’s son was about to cut off her fingers. She panicked now as she had then, and just as she’d done that time, she stammered out a plea to Mugen.

“St-st- _stop_!”

Before the word even finished leaving her lips, his grip had vanished. Fuu’s hands dropped to clutch her kimono, to keep it from falling open, and she was left staring at the back of Mugen’s red jacket as he walked away.

“That’s why you’re not enough; and you never will be, so you’d better shut your trap from now on. Come on, Jin, let’s go find something to eat.”

There was a small _clack._ Jin’s swords settled from ready position to rest at his side as he fell into step beside Mugen.

Fuu’s knees felt weak, and she slid down the tree until her bottom rested on the ground.

Her mind flatly refused to process what had just happened, and instead fixated on a seemingly insignificant detail.

Jin had needed to re-settle his swords.

…He’d been about to draw?

…Oh!

…Perhaps if Mugen hadn’t stopped…

And her thoughts had already circled back to _that_.

She could still feel the phantom touch of his hand gripping her wrists.

Fuu kept her mind cataloguing minor details as she busied her hands re-wrapping her obi.

She felt hot.

That was strange. When she nearly lost her fingers in the teahouse, her skin had been freezing, her sweat ice cold.

Also, back then, her vision had faded and grayed, not sharpened and brightened.

Fuu was still sitting in the dirt. She hoped she hadn’t gotten any smudges on her kimono.

…What was she supposed to do now?

***

(Meanwhile…)

Mugen and Jin walked in silence for a few minutes.

“If you have something to say, then say it,” Mugen goaded the glowering samurai.

“You’re despicable,” Jin’s voice was cold.

“I know that,” the mercenary chuckled, a smirk playing over his lips.

That had been fun. Even better, that had been _enlightening_.

Mugen knew terror; intimately. He had been born into a world of fear and pain. He’d killed and tortured and mutilated so many that he’d lost count before he was ten years old. Violence was his first and oldest lover.

Mugen knew what terror looked like. So he knew Fuu had been feeling a lot more than fear; though even she probably didn’t realize it, as naive as she was.

Fear whitened the face and constricted the pupils. Fuu’s skin had reddened and her pupils had blown wide.

That wasn’t fear.

“Vile barbarian,” Jin muttered beside him.

“Prissy snob,” he automatically shot back.

They all had their routines.

 

* * *

 

Part 2

“Where’s Jin?”

“Town,” Mugen grunted.

“Again? Even with all those corpses that were staked out on the road? Mou, you two are the worst bodyguards ever!” Fuu stomped in frustration. These guys really were the _worst_.

“I _might_ stay out here with you.”

Fuu stopped to stare, “What? Why? What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ll stay. In return, you’re going to give me something.”

“Okay,” Fuu said, then reconsidered. “Maybe. What is it?”

“One kiss.”

“… WHAT?” Fuu pointed at him accusingly, “What are you talking about? Why would you ask that? What sick game are you trying to play?”

“You get into trouble when we both leave. You saw those bodies on the road. If I stay and put up with your bullshit instead of going out and getting some real tail, a kiss is more than fair.”

“I know you, you perv. You wouldn’t be satisfied with that! Why would I believe you’d stop there?”

“Bitch, if I wanted to rape you, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

“You… you _monster_!”

“Sticks and stones,” Mugen smirked, “Are you telling me to follow Jin to the red light district?”

“N-no,” Fuu hated how weak she sounded. She tried to be independent and brave. She broke herself out of situations _almost_ as often as they had to save her. …She even saved them sometimes! But the sight of the flayed bodies on the roadside was fresh in her mind. “You’re just trying to trick me or something; you want to humiliate me and laugh!”

“I don’t know who the fuck you’ve been traveling with, but when did I do shit like that?”

Well, he had a point. Mugen was nothing if not direct. She’d never seen him be deceptive about… anything. Sure, he’d take advantage if an opportunity arose, but planning was not his strong point.

“Okay, but if you’re trying to prank me or something _I will never forgive you_.”

Mugen’s sneer softened slightly, “Fine, now tie this around your eyes,” he held out a length of cloth Fuu had been saving for (inevitable) bandages.

“That’s even _more_ suspicious, you know!”

“I know what I’m doing, okay? It’ll be better for you this way. Really.”

“…Just a kiss, that’s all?”

“Knee me in the nuts if I try anything else.”

Fuu took the length of fabric and fidgeted with it between her fingers, “Why are you doing this?”

“Telling you my motives isn't part of the deal.”

“So why am I considering this again?”

“If you want, you can take your chances and end up like those bodies back on the road.”

“Ah…” Fuu paused to consider.

“Tie the damn cloth over your eyes.”

“If this is a prank, I’m going to think of the worst possible thing and do it to you _twice_ ,” Fuu said while tying the length of cloth behind her head.

Was she really doing this?

It seemed so.

Fuu wasn’t sure whether it was the thought of those mutilated bodies on the road, her curiosity about what Mugen was up to, pure boredom, the anticipation of possibly getting her first kiss, or some other reason entirely. Either way, the blindfold was over her eyes and she stood stiffly, her hands balled into fists at her side, waiting for Mugen to rain some unknown humiliation down on her.

“Soften your mouth.” His voice sounded much closer than it had been. She could feel his breath fanning over her face. Her nerves jangled anxiously when she noticed she didn’t mind it. She usually hated other people’s breath.

A funny tickle settled into her stomach.

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

Oh, right. Fuu’s mouth was pressed into a hard line. Her whole body was rigid.

This was _scary_.

Nevertheless, she made the effort to relax her lips, felt Mugen’s satisfied exhale on her skin.

He smelled like the sea.

It was not a beautiful smell, but it wasn’t unpleasant, either. …Which sort of described a lot of things about Mugen.

Her fists clenched even tighter when she felt fingers on her jaw, tilting up her chin. She couldn’t help tensing up again when she felt the lightest brush over her lips. Warm, soft, and slightly damp, the touch brushed over her a second time before Fuu remembered again to relax her mouth.

The next brush against her softened lips sent a shock through her body. She’d never understood the metaphor that somebody’s blood ‘sang’, but there was a physical _zing_ that she couldn’t write off as an overactive imagination. The blindfold made her concentrate all her other senses, making every sensation stronger.

This time Mugen didn’t merely brush past, but covered her mouth and moved to set his lips more firmly against hers with a low hum. He pressed their mouths together a second time, a third, then his hand on her jaw slid to the back of her neck, cradling her head at the angle he wanted.

Fuu’s heart was racing. She tentatively started pushing back, trying to return the pressure without embarrassing herself by doing something wrong. She could still feel his breath steady against her face, which was unfair, since her breathing was getting more and more erratic.

So far, he had kept his word, and the only way he was touching her was his hand behind her neck and the kiss itself.

Just as she thought she was getting the hang of it, Mugen changed what he was doing. Fuu felt a brief tug of teeth, a moment’s sensation of his tongue running across her lower lip.

She went still, confused again.

Mugen pulled back. Fuu missed the pressure more than she had thought possible. “Open your mouth,” his breath fanned across her face.

Fuu simply obeyed. At this point all her stubbornness was dedicated to keeping her hands at her sides. The urge to reach out and touch was so physical and immediate she would have disbelieved hearing the story from someone else.

His tongue ran over the inner edge of her bottom lip, getting her accustomed to the sensation before delving inside past her teeth, twining their tongues together in a dance she didn’t know the steps to. She had no choice but to let him lead.

Suddenly, the heat and sensation was gone, leaving an unfulfilled emptiness in her racing heart and panting breath.

“Good enough,” she heard Mugen’s voice fading, as she sensed him walking away from her. “I’m gonna nap.”

Fuu tore off the blindfold, ready to yell at him for… something, and flinched when the suddenly blinding afternoon light hit her eyes. By the time she could focus again, Mugen had sprawled out under a tree as usual and was snoring away, apparently dead to the world.

Fuu still didn’t know why she wanted to scream at him, but she KNEW she would be unable to look him in the eye without turning a bright tomato red. He’d been right to use the blindfold. If she could see, she would have lost her nerve before he got anywhere near her, and she definitely wouldn’t have been able to focus on what she could feel…

She sat down, openly pouting, still not sure why her emotions were so off balance.

Momo emerged from inside her kimono to chitter angrily at her.

***

(Meanwhile…)

Mugen strode away, smirking as he heard Fuu’s enraged huff at his abrupt departure and her silent, virginal hysterics while he sprawled under the tree feigning sleep.

That was fun. He could see now why bitches played these games with men.

Always leave ‘em wanting more…

He’d never been patient, but toying with Fuu was turning out to be its own reward.

***

(Later)

By the time Jin came back, Fuu had time to feel regret.

She was glad enough that Mugen had stayed with her. Hours earlier he had killed the feral children and hopefully rid the world of their weird blood-sacrifice religion. Actually, pretty much anyone who wasn’t Mugen would have lowered their guard, or at least been hesitant to slaughter children.

So it was a good thing he was there.

But watching his face light up as he carved through the small bodies drove home just how bad of an idea it had been to kiss him.

She’d been right about being unable to look him in the face without a magnificent blush, so she just started looking sort of past him when she addressed him to avoid alerting Jin that anything had happened.

That night, as she tended the fire, all the thrill of her first kiss had faded, and she was left with nothing but regret.

If she was honest with herself…

She wished it had been Jin.

Jin was handsome, even beautiful. His body was built like a sculpture, his movements graceful, his hair long and elegant. More importantly, he was refined and disciplined, and she sometimes caught glimpses of a hidden core of goodness.

She trusted him.

He was everything Mugen was not.

Mugen always gave the aura of a predator. His hair was a wild shock sticking up in all directions, his face was never clean shaven, his body all corded muscle and bone. His movements were wild and unpredictable. He had zero sense of decency, a hard core of cruelty that he never bothered to hide.

If Jin was a carved statue, Mugen was a scarred and twisted oak.

And Fuu guessed that Jin was the better fighter.

Yet it was not Jin that Fuu thought of when she touched her lips at night, her body yearning for something she had only ever heard about.

 

* * *

 

Part 3

A student of Jin’s old dojo showed up to avenge their master, and they were separated in the chaos as the town burned around them. Momo had run off at the first sign of smoke, leaving Fuu’s breast feeling empty.

Fuu choked on hot ash as Mugen pulled her through the smoldering forest, seemingly unaffected by the searing heat. When they reached the shore, he pulled her over to a small fishing boat and used his sword to cut the rope tying it to the dock. Fuu didn’t even have the breath to protest the theft as Mugen rowed away with calm but powerful strokes.

Eventually, they reached the far shore and Mugen declared they were out of danger. Fuu stripped off her outer kimono and waded back into the water to try and save it from the ash and soot that had worked into the fabric. She didn’t notice the time passing until she was finished and realized that it was getting hard to see.

Thank goodness Mugen had started their campfire without her. She carefully hung her kimono on nearby tree branches and settled dejectedly down to a foodless night.

At least they had eaten lunch.

She wallowed in misery until something blocked the firelight.

Fuu looked up to see Mugen crouching in front of her.

“Let’s have some fun,” he said, teeth flashing white in the gloom.

***

“Jin won’t try to find us until morning.”

No matter how much she insisted that he couldn’t possibly know that, Mugen didn’t seem to be getting bored of the argument. It was time to change tactics.

“I plan to be a virgin bride!”

“That’s… _stupid_ ,” he ignored the glare she shot him, “Are you really that old fashioned? With the kind of scrapes you keep getting into, you’re going to lose it to some rapist or brothel client anyway.”

“That’s your fault! You’re supposed to be my bodyguard and you keep ditching me!”

“Why in the hell would I stay?” he snorted.

“You promised!”

“You’re such a child,” Fuu nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt his hand on her ankle, “Go ahead and stop me,” she automatically swung her hand to strike him, which he caught with pathetic ease. “Tell me to stop,” His hand slid up her calf, leaving a tingling trail. “Cry uncle. Beg for mercy. You know I will; just say the word.”

Weirdly, having such an easy way out made her hesitate. But that shouldn’t matter. She opened her mouth to imperiously say ‘unhand me’, but what came out of her mouth was “There are so many men who won’t marry a used woman!”

“You plan to marry a jackass like that?”

“I…” it was getting hard to think. His hand was above her knee, now, under her yukata. Her prior experience with this kind of thing – admittedly never consensual – was her skin crawling from clammy, wiggling fingers, but for whatever reason, Mugen’s hands were warm and strong, the pace up her leg had halted high on her thigh. “Maybe?”

“You can always lie to him.”

That… was _such_ a bad idea.

Fuu had always been weak to hunger, and this was something so similar to hunger that she had little defense against it.

"Tell me you don't want this, and I'll leave you alone," Mugen wasn't giving up.

She wasn’t completely ignorant, and knew what was behind the tingling heat in her thighs, the other embarrassing things happening in her body... What upset her most was that she wanted _him_ of all people. Rude, cruel, wild… and when it came to appearance, only a few kinds of light could make Mugen handsome.

Although, the firelight was doing an admirable job of it.

She was leaning back against her nest of blankets. He hovered over her, the hand up her yukata slid down behind her knee and pulled, surprisingly gently, until she was flat on her back.

Fuu didn’t panic until he tugged her obi loose.

“Wait! Stop! Don’t!” her heart, which had been speeding up this whole time, had reached some critical point that turned excitement into terror.

The hand on her obi was gone instantly. The body leaning over her moved to the side, leaving her a clear way to escape. But he didn’t move away entirely.

Couldn’t move away entirely.

Fuu was gripping his sleeve.

She didn’t remember doing that.

They stayed that way for almost a full minute. Then he seemed to conclude she’d changed her mind and leaned over her again. Fuu tensed up, waiting for the hand to come back. Her heartbeat, which had started to even out, sped back up.

But he didn’t touch her. Instead, he kissed her.

Not long ago, Fuu would have guessed that kissing someone who wasn’t clean-shaven would be scratchy and gross, but the few scruffy hairs on his chin were so soft she could barely feel them. The deep shadow cast by the fire meant she could barely see him, which helped for some reason. And when the hand came back to her obi, she didn’t object.

The obi pulled loose, but Mugen didn’t throw open her yukata like she expected. Instead, he trailed lips across her jaw and down her neck. The simple sensation of a soft kiss on her neck was sending frighteningly powerful shocks through her body, and Mugen paused, not seeming in any rush to go further.

“You can touch me too, you know.” The unexpected voice seemed loud against her skin.

He sounded amused.

Touch him? Her hands had been held stiffly at her sides this whole time. “Touch” was such a vague suggestion that she didn’t know how to even start.

“Really, go ahead,” his voice had fallen to a whisper. “My skin, hair, wherever you want. This body of mine is yours too, during all this.”

She hadn’t considered his hair.

As she sat up, her loosened yukata fell open around her shoulders. When his lips went to the newly exposed skin, her hands rose so she could wind her fingers through his wild hair.

It was so much softer than it looked.

She’d never felt anything like it. She twirled the springy strands around her fingers and gripped. Mugen’s breath huffed out over her bared shoulder when he felt the tugs on his scalp.

It felt surprisingly powerful to cause this kind of reaction, but she didn’t feel like stopping there.

When her hands moved to the back of his neck, Mugen sat up, breaking the contact and giving Fuu a moment of panic that she had done something wrong. But he used the extra space to shrug out of his jacket and pull the shirt over his head, swinging them behind her to add to the nest of bedding before using the bulk of his body to press her back into the fabric.

Her yukata had fallen down so far it was barely covering her breasts. Between that and the way he was semi-pinning her to the ground, Fuu felt a real stab of fear, but instead of going for her breasts, he kissed her again and she forgot to panic.

She was learning the steps to this dance - lips, teeth, and tongue. This time, she didn’t hold back from touching him, and ran her hands up his arms.

She knew he was strong. Obviously. One of the strongest people she had ever known. But knowing and actually feeling it under her hands were completely different things.

The waning firelight softened the hard lines of his body, making him look attractive, even handsome. She couldn’t see the gaps between his ribs, a relic of a life of starvation; nor the too hard and corded muscle in his shoulders and arms built by years of swinging a sword.

But she could still feel that strength under her fingertips.

Fuu had no idea skin could feel like this. She thought it would be like washing herself when she was bathing, but the feel of Mugen’s skin was so different, so much better, that she finally understood the cliché about silk over steel. The heat pouring off him was the perfect temperature, his skin was soft over a body that was battle-hardened while still having just the right amount of give to it. Her fingertips pressed into the addicting feel of his body’s breath and pulse, overlaid by something electric that she could only describe as _power_.

She wanted to grip onto him and absorb that life and vitality through the palms of her hands. He even _smelled_ like strength. Somehow.

Fuu wiggled completely out of her yukata and threw her arms around Mugen’s shoulders, hanging on as he arranged their bodies in a way he knew how to and she did not.

“You ready?” came the voiceless whisper and the wash of breath over her ear.

“Yes,” she said, wanting this more than she knew was possible.

She felt something slightly warmer than the rest of him rest in the wetness between her legs, and after a moment’s pause she gasped as he slowly pressed in.

He stilled for a minute, gave her time to adjust to the feeling, and to panic slightly at what she had just irreversibly done, then calm herself down and bask a little in the heat radiating where their bodies joined.

She was amazed that there was so little pain. Wasn’t there supposed to be pain?

She had trouble holding on to such thoughts, her body overwhelming her with sensations that were amazing and weird and kind of scary. Fuu wrapped her arms around Mugen’s shoulders and pulled their bodies flush together. Mugen had to roll his hips to move as she tried to absorb through her skin the strength humming just beneath his.

Mugen turned his head to the side, his breath stuttered, and he whispered. “Perfect. Perfect timing.”

Before she could ask what he meant, Mugen moved one hand from around her and slid it between them, his thumb unerringly finding something that made her whole body arch in pleasure so overwhelming it almost felt like pain. He rubbed his thumb in a ruthless grinding circle, and she bit back a scream until he ordered her, a low growl directly into her ear, to scream his name instead of holding back.

She couldn’t have disobeyed if she’d wanted to. Her thighs were spasming out of control as something began to build deep inside her body. She gripped Mugen’s back and screamed his name over and over until the thing building inside her spilled over the edge and she was falling.

As soon as he felt her body tighten in release, Mugen whispered a final command into her ear “Now look across the fire and take a bow for our audience.”

Fuu’s head snapped to the side so fast she would have hurt herself if she hadn’t been in the throes of orgasm. Her eyes met Jin’s expression of horror and disgust, but she couldn’t control her breath, her voice, or her face as the waves of pleasure hit her so hard she lost all control over her body. A few more thrusts into her body - so clearly exposed, she now realized - and Mugen grunted, going rigid, sinking his teeth into her shoulder hard enough to bruise as he pinned her across his thighs, spilling hot inside her.

Jin vanished from the firelight at a speed that was only partially an illusion, and the last thing Fuu felt before the end of her first orgasm was Mugen’s body shaking with cruel laughter, and the puffs of his breath over her skin.

Fuu slumped sideways as the last of the orgasm faded, feeling boneless and unable to move, and prayed that she would faint, or die, or otherwise leave so she wouldn’t have to live in this nightmare any longer.

She never got her wish, and could feel Mugen slide out of her body; could still hear his wicked chuckles as she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

The sated orgasmic bliss combined with the horror at the depths of Mugen’s betrayal left her empty and dry-eyed. Unable to move, to speak, even to cry.

She wanted to cry.

To cry would at least provide some kind of release.

But tears refused to come, and as she felt Mugen’s dark mirth subside as he settled down beside her, she wondered why he didn’t make the cruelty complete and leave her here alone.

Unconsciousness still refused to come, so she might as well ask.

“Why are you still here? You got what you wanted, you pulled your prank on Jin. Why haven’t you left me here?”

Mugen snorted. “Hey, even I have SOME sense of decency.” She glanced over at him, he’d actually sounded offended. “You don’t just _leave_ right after breaking a virgin. You stay for a few minutes. If nothing else, she’ll want something to hold on to.”

Fuu wished now that she hadn’t asked. His answer actually made it worse. He had no feeling or respect whatsoever for her. The only iota of respect he was showing was for her _virginity_. Which was now gone.

She hadn’t thought she could feel worse than she had a minute earlier.

Fuu didn’t resist when Mugen manhandled her limp body. He rolled her over until she was pressed against his side, wrapping one arm around her waist to half-cradle her body. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, her eyes staring out across the expanse of his chest. One of her hands had fallen to rest over his heart.

She could still feel the incredible life and power flowing through his body.

It had lost none of its intoxicating thrill.

Fuu wished she had gone completely dead inside. She wished she could faint. She wished her stubbornly dry eyes would cry. She wished she didn’t have to feel this anymore.

He was so warm.

 

***

End

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In vino veritas. Misunderstandings are cleared up, but not without a lot of drama. And sake. And profanity. I mean really, really bad language. This is your warning.

Fuu remained pressed against Mugen until he began to snore.

She slipped away, stood and dressed by the light of the moon. Then she took off after Jin.

It was too dark to see far, but she walked the direction he had gone and hoped that some instinct or a helpful kami would guide her step.

She found him, but only because he had not gone far.

"Jin!" she began to approach, but then paused in her steps. She was dirty, now, unworthy of his presence.

She deserved a cold shoulder, but the handsome samurai turned to her quite normally and said, "Fuu, are you okay?"

"…okay?" Fuu was lost. How was he still willing to speak to her?

"Did he force you?" Jin's voice was steady, but his hand menacingly gripped the hilt of his katana.

"Oh!" so that was why he didn't hate her... yet. He would in a moment, though, "No, no he didn't." Fuu drew a breath, "Jin, I'm so sorry!" her words rushed, hoping to get at least that much out before he walked away.

But Jin did not walk away, "You have nothing to be sorry for, Fuu." His hand slid from his katana, and he looked up to the stars.

"No, Jin, I do! I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was just using me to upset you. I thought he, that he…" Fuu's voice broke, but even now she still could not cry.

She thought he'd wanted her. Fuu was not so foolish as to expect love or devotion or promises, but she had thought he'd wanted her because he _wanted_ her, not to use her as some pawn in the kind of complex scheming that up to this point he had never shown ANY aptitude or inclination for.

"I see." Jin ended his inspection of the night sky and stepped to stand in front of her, "A man like Mugen is unable to feel anything beyond the sensation of his flesh. His spirit is dead, if it ever existed at all. I'm sorry you got caught up in his selfishness."

"Oh, Jin. I'm so, so sorry!" Fuu felt like an echo in a canyon, repeating herself endlessly. No matter how many times she said it, it would never be enough.

They stood in silence for a time. Fuu didn't know what Jin was thinking. After a moment, she accidentally spoke aloud – "I wish it had been you."

Jin's breath hissed through his teeth, and suddenly Fuu felt like a liar, even though it hadn't been a lie. Not really, not completely.

"Why would you say that?" he sounded shocked, but she was too ashamed to look at him, to watch his expression as he spoke.

She let out a shuddering breath. "If I had gone to you, before this, would you have had me?"

Jin's slender, pale hand landed on her shoulder, causing Fuu to flinch. He did not speak.

"If I asked you now, would you kiss me?" Fuu barely recognized herself. She had turned from an innocent girl into a wanton whore in one evening.

Jin's hold on her shoulder tightened "No."

Fuu wanted to die, she would have run if the hand on her shoulder hadn't prevented her escape.

"No," Jin repeated. "Let me tell you why."

Fuu's spiraling despair slowed only enough to listen to the words that she was certain would end her.

"If I had you, now or ever, I would not be able to let you go."

Fuu was so surprised she forgot her shame and looked him in the face.

Jin's expression was sad.

He continued, "You deserve more than what I can give. More than either of us can give. You deserve safety, a man not always running from his past, not a vagrant or criminal. You deserve someone who can guarantee that you will eat every day, who can give you a home and family, not someone who wakes each morning prepared for this day to be his last."

Fuu's lips trembled, yet tears still did not fall. She waited, but it seemed that words as well as tears had abandoned her.

Then, at last, a question floated to the surface of her mind. "Jin…" she couldn't possibly expect him to say yes… but she could ask. "Will you stay? Will you travel with me until we find the sunflower samurai?"

A shadow of a smile graced Jin's handsome face "Yes, I will."

"Oh thank you!" Fuu launched herself into Jin and wrapped her arms around his waist. She hadn't known she was still capable of joy, but the emotion welling inside her could be nothing else, "Thank you so much!"

Jin's body stiffened uncomfortably, but he did not push her away.

***

Fuu was in such turmoil she was silent for most of the trip to the next town.

Jin stoically refused to react to Mugen's taunting. Fuu was pathetically grateful.

She tried not to give Jin pitiful puppy-dog eyes. At least not openly. Too often.

She had no idea how Mugen was looking at her, as she simply couldn't bring herself to look in his direction. The shame and pain were far too raw.

The uncharacteristic silence thundered so loud that Fuu was tempted to provoke Momo-san into squeaking incessantly, just to fill the air.

But if she started prodding the flying squirrel constantly, then Momo would leave her, too. And Fuu liked to think that if nothing else, this mess had taught her to resist temptation. At least the kind that would drive someone away.

In town, they found work easily enough, but ate their wages down until they didn't have quite enough left for lodging.

Finding no abandoned buildings or generous temples, it was back out to the woods, again.

After he built the fire, Jin cleared his throat and addressed Fuu, "My employer wishes to test me in a game of shogi. Will you be all right here?" he said, pointedly not-quite glancing in Mugen's direction.

In that moment, Fuu loved him. But she could not keep him here just for her own selfish comfort. "Good luck, and do your best!" she waved him off cheerfully.

Jin inclined his head gracefully, and walked off.

Fuu could feel tension building between her shoulders as Jin disappeared in the direction of the town. She nearly flinched when she heard Mugen let out a breath.

"Finally! I thought that jackass would never leave." Mugen muttered while moving toward Fuu. He was looking in the direction Jin had gone, so he didn't notice Fuu cowering until he reached for her and she whimpered.

He pulled his hand back as if burned. "What's wrong?" He looked aghast.

"Don't touch me!" was the only thing Fuu could think to say. "Don't ever touch me again!"

"Wha- huh? _What_?" he stammered, looking at her like she was the one who was crazy.

Fuu only turned her face further from him and pulled her kimono close, as if waiting for a blow.

"Seriously? What the fuck is wrong with you?" He waited as if for an answer. "Fine," he growled after a few moments, "I might have enough coin for a cheap whore anyway!" he stormed off in the same direction as Jin, and vanished in moments. Not long after, the sound of his angry footsteps faded as well.

***

Weeks passed, and instead of things improving over time, Fuu sensed their group was going to fall apart before they even reached Nagasaki.

Mugen was getting twitchier and more distracted with each town they passed through. He'd disappear into the red light district, and each time reappear after shorter and shorter amounts of time, smelling of sake and looking even angrier than before. Also – and Fuu would have sworn this was impossible – his language was somehow getting even _worse_.

This was starting to affect Fuu and Jin as well. Jin began disappearing the nights Mugen went to the brothels, trying to avoid the inevitable fights Mugen would try to pick when he came back. Fuu didn't know how long this uncharacteristic maturity of his would last. Soon enough, Jin's temper would break and Fuu was afraid they would kill each other for real.

Even if she hadn't grown attached to them, it was illegal for a woman to travel without at least one man accompanying her. Normally she would be willing to take her chances, but getting arrested and jailed when she was this close to her goal would be unbearably cruel.

Today, less than two hours after he left, Fuu heard furious crashing footsteps heading toward their camp.

Some instinct warned her that this time felt different. As if he was heading straight for _her_.

She was right.

The former pirate stormed into the firelight and pointed at Fuu accusingly.

"You Fucking Bitch!" His face was contorted in fury and the scent of sake on his breath washed over her.

Fuu startled. " _What_?" she spat. She was grumpy too. They were all a little short, these days.

"What the fuck have you done to me!?"

"… what?" this time she was really confused.

"Stop it!"

"Stop what? What do you want?!"

"What do I want?" Mugen lowered his finger and his hand clenched into a fist at his side. He stepped toward her. "I WANT you to lift the curse you put on me. I WANT this bullshit to end. I WANT to fuck a whore with huge tits and not be thinking about something else. I WANT you to fucking die so you won't be in my head anymore!"

Fuu's back was pressed against a tree. She hadn't noticed she was backing up. "You want me… to die?"

All the anger and energy seemed to drain from Mugen, the lines of his body sagged. "No, Fuu, I just want you to look at me."

Surprised, Fuu's eyes focused on his face for the first time in what seemed like years.

He looked… rough.

Lines of stress were visible on every feature. Dark shadows stood out beneath bloodshot eyes. "I just want you to fucking look at me again."

Fuu blinked, feeling a little lost, scared, and hurt for no earthly reason.

There was exhaustion in Mugen's face, but no deception. "Whatever I did, I take it back. I wish I'd never touched you if you'd just look me in the eye again."

For a few long heartbeats, Fuu stared in silence. Then, "What do you mean, 'whatever you did'? You used me to hurt Jin and threw me away like nothing!"

"I… what?"

"You heard me!"

"…What the _fuck_! Where in the _shit_ did you get a dumbass idea like that? I don't keep track of where that utter pisshead of a swordsman is or where he goes! And _I_ threw _you_ away? I remember something really fucking different."

"What? You hit your head and lost your memory or something? You used me!" Fuu shrieked in righteous fury.

"Horseshit! Did you forget who left, right after screwing, to chase some faggot prettyboy? Did you forget _who_ rejected _who_ the next time we were alone? Bitch, I haven't been able to enjoy another woman since!"

Wait, this was... Fuu was in the right here! She had the moral high ground! Mugen was the monster and she was the victim!

…Right?

"But I… You… I… What?"

He was the one in a drunken rage, but it was Fuu's head that was spinning.

"Are you _stupid_? What do I have to do? What do you want from me?" Mugen was advancing on her again, gesturing angrily, "I'll throw away my sword and become a goddamn fisherman. I'll prostrate myself and fucking grovel. I'll let Jin cut off my dick and shove it down my throat. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it."

Fuu felt sick. Pieces that she thought were glued into place were rearranging themselves in her mind. "Mugen," her voice was hesitant, "Mugen, tell me what _you_ want. For real."

The former pirate had reached her. He sank to his knees in front of her, "Fine.

"Fine. I want to wake up with you in the mornings." He leaned his forehead against her obi, his hands settling on either side of her waist as suddenly Fuu could barely breathe. "I want you to have my children. I want to stand beside you as we grow old." Fuu felt a barrier inside her break, one that had stood since that night, and suddenly her cheeks were wet; hot tears streaming down her face to drip off her chin. Without thinking she buried her hands in Mugen's hair, his face still pressed against her stomach as he spoke. "I want to teach you the sword, so I'll never have to worry about you again. I want you to look at me, only me. Not that punkass ronin, or anyone else."

"Mugen," Fuu sniffled, wiping her face with her sleeve. Ew. She'd forgotten how gross and messy it was to cry. "But… I thought you were just using me."

He sighed, and Fuu could feel the heat of his breath even through the layers of her kimono. "…I thought so, too." His voice was still muffled in her obi. Fuu was carding her fingers through his hair now. Reveling in the softness she'd nearly forgotten. "I even told myself that I was, but I think I've been lying for a long time."

"Mugen…" when the former pirate stood and looked at her, Fuu thought of something that made her heart sink.

He was drunk. _Really_ drunk. Mugen didn't get drunk enough to seriously handicap him in a fight, but maybe enough for him to say things he would later deny. If the smell of his breath didn't give him away, the dullness in his eyes left no doubt.

He'd said he would put down his sword if she asked. That alone proved he was too drunk to think clearly. Mugen would never relinquish his sword. Not for her; not for anyone.

She decided.

"Mugen, if you tell me the same thing in the morning, I'll believe you."

The former pirate paused, seeming to struggle with what she was saying. Then he cursed. He spat. Then he sighed and seemed to calm down. "Fine. Sleep with me."

"Sleep with…?" he'd said something like that so casually!

"I mean _sleep_ , you stupid bitch." This time Mugen's epithets sounded affectionate, lacking any of the bite of his previous insults. She even saw a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"But Jin…"

"That motherfucking fuckhead can go piss up a rope," Mugen drawled. His language hadn't improved, but it sounded like all his anger had vanished. He almost seemed… playful.

She liked Mugen like this. She _really_ liked him like this. She wanted him to stay this way. "Fine, but if you try anything in the middle of the night, I reserve the right to knee you in the nuts, remember?" Fuu sniffed haughtily and flounced over to her blanket by the fire.

It seemed that playfulness was contagious.

Fuu only felt nervous butterflies in her stomach when she heard rustling fabric behind her. "You'd better not be thinking of sleeping naked, you pig," she warned.

"Not naked, juss usin' my shirt fer a pillow," Mugen slurred, lack of energy finally making him sound as drunk as he actually was. "Hot… too much sake…" he continued to ramble.

Fuu settled on her blanket by the fire. Mugen dropped his makeshift pillow by her head. She was oddly touched, until she rested her head on it and wrinkled her nose. "Mugen, your shirt smells like sake and cheap brothel perfume."

"Feel free not t' use it," Mugen yawned hugely, lay down, and unceremoniously threw his arms around Fuu's waist, dragging her backward into his bare chest with no subtlety at all. He didn't heed Fuu's yelp, and buried his nose in her shoulder before he was out cold.

Fuu really didn't want to be awake and have to explain this when Jin came back. That was a good enough reason to fall asleep quickly.

***

Consciousness came slowly the next morning. Fuu woke groggy and heavy-limbed from a night of good sleep. She didn't panic when she remembered the events of the night before; instead, she panicked when she glanced over and saw some of Jin's things had moved.

Her first thought this morning was worrying what Jin's reaction had been.

Wow, she had it _bad_.

Although at this point she wasn't sure who she 'had it bad' for.

Fuu turned away from the dying embers of the fire, and looked at Mugen.

He hadn't kept hold of her all night. Instead he'd returned to his usual gangly sprawl sometime in the middle of the night. Only one hand remained trapped under Fuu, and most of him wasn't even on the blanket anymore. He must have been telling the truth about being overheated from sake.

The morning light hid no flaws on his bare torso. The deep bronze tan that spat on the samurai ideal of perfect pale skin. His hair unkempt and wild instead of straight and glossy. Prominent muscle and bone instead of smooth, elegant lines. His emotions always showed plainly on his face, instead of a dignified mask.

Definitely not samurai.

He really ought to be ugly. Sometimes he _was_. That didn't change the fact that he exuded a raw sexuality that she hadn't felt from anyone before. The closest comparison she had were her years as a waitress dodging the groping hands of dirty lecherous men, but this was the first time someone like that didn't disgust her.

Fuu's eyes were drawn to his scars, especially the fresh ones that hadn't had time to fade.

From Mukuro. From Sara.

She'd stitched him up and bandaged him both times, and knew which injuries came from where. The other times, too, but those were the two that stood out.

The first time, Fuu wept when she thought he'd died. The second time, she had tried to die with him.

Fuu would have told everybody, and wouldn't be completely lying, that she had been trying to protect Mugen, that throwing herself over him had been a gamble meant to save him.

That hadn't actually been the case. There had been no time to make such calculations. The only thing in her mind, right then, was that Sara had killed Jin, and was about to kill Mugen.

And…

And she wanted to die with him rather than live on without them.

She'd really gotten pathetic, hadn't she? She was depending on them far too much, had grown too attached. What a fool she was.

A hand gripped Fuu's wrist. She'd been gently tracing a finger over the scar Sara had left. Fuu's eyes followed the hand up to see Mugen's eyes open, staring at her. He didn't pull her hand away, nor pull her towards him. Just gently held her wrist in his hand.

A sudden wave of both shyness and fatigue washed over Fuu, and she found herself lying back down.

Instead of letting go of her wrist, Mugen rolled on top of her.

His sleep-warm body felt amazing, his bare skin felt even better than amazing. That still didn't erase the fact that he was really freakin heavy and Fuu could barely breathe. She _could_ breathe, but she couldn't move.

His lips pressed on hers, slow and drowsy. Fuu pulled her head to the side. "Phew, your breath stinks."

"You're no bed of roses yourself," his voice was dry and scratchy with sleep, and he covered her mouth again.

She may have morning breath, but she didn't have _hangover_ morning breath! Fuu would have said so, if his tongue hadn't been in her mouth.

He was in her way. Fuu bit down, expecting him to pull away and get angry. She hadn't expected him to stiffen, letting out a low groan while something unmistakably twitched against her stomach.

There was an embarrassing rush of wetness between her legs.

Fuu squirmed. The same thing that was pressed against her stomach twitched again.

Mugen finally released her mouth, and Fuu panted for air as he lay his head on her collarbone. She'd completely forgotten what she'd wanted to say.

Right!

His breath really was bad.

She told him so.

"That gives me an idea," Mugen replied, and with no warning, picked her up.

Fuu let out an undignified squawk as he snagged his red jacket and started walking.

"Hey, where are you going! What does picking me up have to do with morning breath!" she was too off balance to formulate proper questions.

"You won't be able to relax if you're worried about that samurai shitrag walking in on us again," Mugen muttered.

Fuu stopped struggling. Mugen's eyes were still hazy with sleep, but no longer dulled by drink.

She had only promised to _believe_ him if he still meant it in the morning. She hadn't promised anything else.

She wasn't stopping him either.

Fuu knew he could overpower her without even really trying. She also knew that every time she told him to stop, he had.

Mugen walked upstream from their camp, and eventually seemed to decide it was far enough. He dropped his red jacket in the roots of a great tree on the grassy bank of the stream, and lay Fuu down on it.

Fuu was glad he'd brought the jacket. She could see the dew glittering on the blades of grass around her. It looked cold. The bank was steep; not so much that she was afraid of tumbling down it, but she definitely felt the pull of gravity toward her feet.

What was Mugen planning?

The former pirate knelt below her legs and loosened her yukata.

Here was the part where she expected to feel fear. When she would panic and tell him to stop. She waited for it.

Mugen looked like he was waiting for the same thing. He raised his eyebrows, looking pleased about something when she didn't object and he pulled open her knees without protest.

It wasn't until he slid his hand under her lower back and lifted that she asked "What are you doing?"

Mugen gave an exasperated sigh, "You just can't let anything be, can you? You have to open your mouth and –" he visibly bit off whatever he was about to say. "Have a little faith in me, will ya?"

"Okay," Fuu said, "Now, _what are you doing?"_

He grinned wickedly, "I'm going to use my mouth on you. I'd tell you to shut up, but there's no way you'll be quiet in a few moments." There was no fatigue in his expression now, his eyes glittered like light off a blade.

"Your mouth?" That sounded… ew. Yet intriguing. She'd heard rumors of things like that, but never considered it actually happening to her.

"No worse than morning breath," he said, before lowering his head and lifting the hand under the small of her back. The slope of the bank meant he'd been kneeling significantly below her, and barely had to hunch as he brought his mouth to her. His other hand spread her open, and he blew gently on her before dragging his tongue over the same spot that had made her scream the time before.

Fuu screamed again, shrilly and desperately, as he dragged his tongue up over that spot again and again. She didn't even have the brainpower left to scream any words, just pure notes of sound torn from her throat. He pushed his face into her, using the flat of his tongue and making each stroke as long and intense as possible.

Her legs wrapped over his shoulders, her hands fisted in his hair. Held immobile, he had to change tactics and began to do things with his tongue that she couldn't even pay attention to, as it blurred together in a pleasure so intense it felt like pain, even like torture, and half of her was screaming to make it stop before she actually died from it. Still, her hands in his hair and her legs around his neck tightened even more as she continued to scream. Dark spots appeared in her vision as her brain begged for oxygen. And she sobbed in relief when release finally hit her and she rode out the waves.

After it was over, oversensitivity hit her so hard that she cried out and wrenched her hips to the side to break the contact. Mugen let her go and lowered her back to the ground.

Fuu's entire body was trembling violently, tears from the overwhelming sensation streamed freely down her face.

Mugen looked smug.

Bastard.

She protested when he pushed his hakama down, looming over her, his position ready to thrust deep inside.

"No, no it'll hurt…"

"Let me," he said, "You can take it. I'll avoid the spot that's too sore."

She gave a weak nod and he slowly pressed in. Fuu whimpered and tried to keep her legs closed as much as possible. The spot between them was too raw and it was agony to touch. Mugen kept his body upright and away from pressing on that spot, but it was still too intense and she began to hyperventilate.

Mugen growled in frustration and moved both her legs together under one arm, essentially turning her on her side. Fuu nearly wept with relief as she could finally press her thighs together over the sore spot.

In this position, his thrusts were forced to be shallow to stay in, but he made up for it by each one being so hard she felt the impact through her whole body. The friction close to, but not directly on that spot between her legs felt wonderful.

After screaming so much, Fuu had been on the edge of unconsciousness, but as oxygen finally started returning to her brain, she could hear Mugen growling filthy things in her ear. How wet and slick she was after she came. How tight she was even after release. How good she felt around his cock. How in a few years, tops, she'd grow some fine tits to match that glorious ass.

His voice hitched, his breath stuttered over her skin, and he went rigid as he came inside her in a hot rush. He sank down, panting, and this was the final thing she had been waiting for. She needed to see what he'd do now.

Mugen settled beside her and threw an arm over her body.

He'd stayed.

She was no longer a virgin who would need 'something to hold on to', but he stayed.

The liar!

Also, earlier he'd said she'd grow breasts in 'a few years' like he planned to be around that long.

Fuu turned to face him. "You are so completely full of shit, you know that?" she mumbled into his chest. Full-body bliss prevented her from putting any bite into the words.

"Shut up for once in your life you pushy bitch," he mumbled back, burying his nose in her hair.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a happier resolution. And more pr0n. (If you found this chapter to be skin-crawlingly purple melodrama, just pretend the story ended after CH1.)
> 
> More notes, musings, and a cut scene / OMAKE can be found at squizbee dot livejournal dot com, which is also linked in my profile.


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